The Iron Maiden
by Sqydd
Summary: Redfox was once the feared name of Magnolia's greatest gangsters, but when leader Metallicana finally gets his judgement, his son Gajeel is left with nowhere to go but a sorry job with sorrier living conditions in the MacGarden household. Although, their daughter Levy may give his sorry story a happy ending.
1. Redfox Ends With Fox

Outside of Happy-Go-Lucky Bar, two men stood arguing loudly in the dark of the night.

"I told you to take it to the mechanic!"

"And I told _you_ that I was too busy to!"

"Oi, Droy, you wanna take this outside—"

"We're already outside, Jet!" They started a shoving match, and they were inches from a full-on fight in the dim light of the bar before a loud metallic clatter caught their attention. They turned to their vehicle in time to see a black-cloaked figure taking off with one of their parcels. "See! You're still not doing your job!"

"Be quiet and let's catch that guy!" They took off, following the thief as he traced a difficult pathway through the darkened Shirotsume. The criminal was very persistent considering that he was stealing a box of books, however they had yet to reach stores (which Jet and Droy were, in fact, carrying them to), and considering the authors, the thief could sell them for ten times as much as they were worth and make a pretty good penny. Jet was right on the man's tail, having been the fastest ever since he was young, but Droy was lagging behind several paces. "Just go get the police!" Jet told him. Droy nodded in agreement and they parted ways as Jet chased the thief down a dark alleyway.

"You're awfully persistent," the thief commented offhandedly as the alley narrowed. Jet felt old beer bottles crunching beneath his boots as he tried to keep pace while twisting slightly to avoid rubbing his shoulders against the surrounding buildings' walls.

"That's funny coming from you. I've heard of people stealing money, gold, silver, but _books?_ " The thief didn't respond and instead picked up the pace. Jet could keep up easily in better circumstances, however they were quickly running out of horizontal space. He looked past the thief's cloak and saw them reaching a wall that created a split at the end of the alley and braced himself to follow. Instead of taking a path, however, the thief jumped and used the wall to kick backwards over Jet's head. Jet whirled around and saw him grab onto the ladder of a fire escape and start climbing. He tried jumping but he couldn't go high enough to reach the ladder, and the thief was quickly escaping. Jet finally gave up and went down one of the alley's forks, figuring that he could go around the building and find another way up.

"Droy!" Jet called as he caught sight of the tan man down the street. Droy waved over at him, too far away to speak, as mounted police raced to the scene. Still, they weren't fast enough, and the thief was still moving as they spoke and the police tried to figure a way up the buildings. Jet looked around and caught the cloaked man, silhouetted by the moon and starlight, raced across the building's rooftops to make an even quicker escape. "He's getting away!" Jet yelled as soon as they were within speaking distance.

"What do we do?" Droy demanded. "We can't catch up to him now!"

"We can't let him get away with the books either! She'll hate us!" The prospect of that shocked both of them, and they jumped into another argument.

"Excuse me," an officer with mint-green hair interrupted, holding out his badged engraved **_OFFICER F. JUSTINE_** , "but we need some information on the thief."

"He's wearing a black cloak—" was all Droy could get out before he was vacuumed back into another argument.

"It was purple!" Jet argued.

"Black! You just didn't get a good look at it!"

"Of course I did! _I was chasing him down you moron!_ " The argument dissolved into pointless squabbling after that, and Officer Justine gave up and instead went to his higher-up, Laxus Dreyar.

"Who the hell steals books?" Laxus snorted derisively as three other officers started to ascend various fire escapes. Two more went inside off the buildings to walk up the stairs, and one used a grappling hook. "They're worth a lot, but still, _they're books._ "

"People will steal anything these days, sir," Freed amended. Laxus just grunted, crossing his arms over his burly chest as his good eye roamed the scene.

"Where are the others in your team?"

"Officer Evergreen is getting information from the townspeople, and Officer Bickslow is guarding the remainder of the transport." Laxus nodded before turning in surprise at one of the surrounding buildings. "What is it, sir?"

"…Somebody's up there," he answered after a moment, eye narrowed. Freed turned and stared at the entire row of buildings, however he couldn't see anybody. Still, he trusted Laxus' word and told the officers to proceed with caution.

On top of the building, the three officers came to a stop upon seeing a shady figure standing at the edge. They drew guns immediately, the lead officer, Erza Scarlet, shouting, "Freeze! Hands in the air!"

He turned to them, coarse hair falling over his tattered black shirt, gloved hands in the air. The strangest thing about him, however, was the crooked strip of metal balanced between his teeth like a smoking pipe, and stranger still, he appeared to be chewing on it. "What'd I do? Can't a guy stare at the stars without getting the feds on his behind?" he snorted. Erza exchanged a look with her fellow officers but kept the gun trained on him.

"Name."

"Why? Ya wanna date? Sorry, Red, but you're not my type," he smirked. Irritated, Erza clenched her teeth and prepared to fire.

"Name, or we'll be forced to take you in." She nodded at Cana Alberona, who was the second-strongest physically, to make sure she was prepared.

"…Redfox," he finally answered, a highly displeased expression on his face as his sharp teeth clamped down on the metal. "Gajeel."

"Gajeel Redfox…" A smirk curved the redhead's lips as she lowered her gun, her subordinates remaining ready as she situated her gloved hands on her prominent hips. "You've a rap sheet as big as Fiore. Blue-collar crimes, white-collar crimes, and about five other categories that we've had to make up just for you and your family."

"Really? Just for me? I feel special," he said in a droll tone as he crunched on the metal. It sounded painful to Erza's ears, however he didn't flinch, and magically his teeth didn't break either.

"I don't suppose you know anything about some _stolen books?_ "

"Do I _look_ like a guy that steals _books?_ " he snorted in indignation. "That red hair dye must've been seepin' into that tiny brain of yours." A vein pulsed in Erza's temple as she fought to keep composure. "You'd sooner find me stealin' candy from a baby—or maybe thongs from your dresser," he added with a shark-ish grin.

"Scarlet," Cana warned as Erza's trigger finger became twitchy. She forced a levelled expression onto her face as she locked eyes with Gajeel again, who appeared entirely bored with the affair. "We really don't have any evidence that he's done this."

"His character is evidence," Erza growled.

"But sadly, not evidence enough for this particular crime," Gajeel smirked. "And if ya arrest me now, it'll be worth your job. A criminal knows the law, Scarlet—that's how we're so good at breakin' it, _gihihi_." Erza was ready to draw her gun again when a whistle sounded in the distance, three separate blows before one long one.

"They've caught the thief," Lisanna Strauss said, lowering her gun. "So this guy is innocent…at least where the books are concerned. Let's go." She and Cana went towards the sound of the whistle, descending the building on the other side via a rickety ladder, while Erza remained in a glaring match with Gajeel.

"Maybe not today, Redfox, but I _will_ slap handcuffs on you in the very near future," Officer Scarlet promised.

"Wow, really? Are you gonna be wearin' a sexy outfit too?" he jeered. Erza growled at him, but obviously she was out of time, because she followed the others with a deliberate middle finger in his direction. "That's real sexy, babe," he called as she slid down the ladder. He shrugged her off, then he leaned over the edge to watch the police move their investigation over to the new site of the crime. Satisfied of his safety, he continued his original task: making some quick bucks. He made a few circles around the rooftop before he finally found the loose slab of concrete and, with a bit of effort, hefted it up and out of the way, baring the old ladder leading down into the abandoned warehouse's attic. He chuckled to himself thinking that those officers couldn't find their captures in plain sight—then again, people were notoriously oblivious.

He descended the ladder into the darkness of the attic, dust coming up as his boots hit the softening wooden ground. Jagged strips of moonlight slipped through the boarded windows and onto the tarped furniture, on which sat Gajeel's cohorts and fellow criminals overdue for a long trip to the big house. "We were almost discovered!" Aria sobbed, tears soaking through his blindfold and convulsions wracking his huge body.

"Eh, shut yer trap," Gajeel snapped, sitting on a table.

"It's your fault for always forgetting where the entrance is," Totomaru accused. Gajeel snorted through his nose and crossed his arms over his chest.

" _Oui_ , he is right," Sol added.

"Both of you shut yer traps. It ain't my fault we've got such a crappy meeting place—"

"Juvia doesn't like your attitude," Juvia Lockser interceded, rising against him. He stood too, towering over her by a good handful of inches, but she was undaunted. "These are Juvia's friends, even if you don't like them."

"Why should I like 'em? They're all morons!" The rest of the gang crowed in anger, yet they refused to stand, having already gotten a good idea of what happened when somebody tried to fight Gajeel. "You too! And if ya know what's good for yerself, you'll get outta my face in three—two—"

"Juvia isn't scared of you," she said in a quiet but hard voice. Gajeel smirked and cracked each knuckle loudly and deliberately.

"Then lemme teach you to be scared—"

"Gajeel!" rang an irritated voice as the trapdoor leading up to the attic slammed shut. Everybody immediately fell silent in reverence as the brains and heart of the operation, Metallicana Redfox, stepped onto the scene. He was the older spitting-image of Gajeel, save for an ugly scar on his forehead that curved down his left cheek and some metal braces on his bad right knee. Still, in spite of his age and injuries, he was a force that even the Devil himself wouldn't reckon with. "Sit down, boy, before I sit you down myself."

"Sure thing, Pops," Gajeel sneered, plopping back down on the table as the plushest leather chair was vacated for his father. He sat down heavily, ringed fingers grasping the armrests as he settled with a grunt.

"Now, what have I missed?"

"Juvia has taken out two competitors," Juvia boasted.

"And I have eliminated _trois_ ," Sol added.

"They were so sad as they died!" Aria howled.

"We've also intercepted a message between government officials," Totomaru told Metallicana. "They've taken our bait perfectly. They won't be on our trail for at least two weeks."

"Good news, all of you," Metallicana congratulated. "Now, what of your affair, son?"

"That deal you proposed? He ain't like it," Gajeel snorted. "Flipped me off and as if _our_ money wasn't enough, he grabbed some books too just to make sure he got some bang outta this whole exchange."

"And what did you do?" Gajeel grimed around his metal, snapping his jaw shut. It finally gave out and shattered into steel shards that rained on the floor.

"Gutted him, 'course. _Gihi_. What'd you expect, Pops? I got 'im good, but apparently he's more sturdy than we thought, 'cause he kept going all the way downtown with a big ol' gaping hole in his side."

"Good boy," Metallicana praised, and despite himself Gajeel's heart swelled with pride. "Anyhow, I have interesting news for you all: Redfox Industries has acquired a metal-melting factory."

"That ain't news," some person in the back of the room cried out. The next sound out of that guy was a wail of pain as a knife found its way into his mouth.

"Jose?" Jose Porla, Metallicana's right-hand lapdog, handed a bound stack of files to him. "No, these are—prepare yourselves— _legal investments._ " A gasp of surprise whirled around the room as for the first time ever, Redfox "Industries" stood in the light to earn an honest paycheck. "It _is_ amazing," he agreed. "An old friend of mine recently passed—" murmured apologies surged, to which Metallicana gave heartfelt thanks, "—and in his will, I was left with his lackluster metalworking business. However, I think that I, with your help, have the wherewithal and significance to turn it into something greater."

"I prefer the darkness," Gajeel complained.

"And we will stay there, as is our rightful place, Gajeel," Metallicana assured. "But having at least one toe out of water will give the police less reason to constantly observe us. We will have a reason for our wealth, and therefore they will not be able to touch us as easily." More whispers flew around as the group nodded in understanding and agreement.

"Eh? Only bastards and wimps follow the law," Gajeel protested. "I ain't with this, Pops."

"You will be as long as I say you are," he countered. "Unless, of course, you want to leave?" Gajeel muttered under his breath. "What was that? Speak up."

"I said, Yes'ir," he said louder.

"So, uh, how's this going to work?" someone else from the crowd asked.

"We are going to move our main operations to the warehouse, which is located in southern Magnolia," Metallicana said. "There, we can make money almost as good and cover our tracks at the same time. Ladies and gentlemen, we will have so much money we won't know what to do with it." Small murmurs of appreciation and excitement ran through the crowd as Metallicana stood with a smirk. "Jose, the good wine please."

"Yes, sir," he said, going into the attic's dusty cooler to bring out two bottles of aged chardonnay. Glasses circulated, followed by the crisp dark yellow liquid. Metallicana raised his flute.

"To more successful days," he announced. His so-loyal minions raised their glasses and repeated the toast with gusto: " _To more successful days!_ "

"Woo-hoo," Gajeel muttered as he downed his drink.

* * *

"What is this?" Lucy asked her boss, holding out the report he had just asked her to print. He gave her an odd look.

"It's the news…duh," Natsu replied, resting his palms on her desk amidst the clutter of correspondence to be done and half-written stories. She used to be excited to be a journalist, but the massive amount of paperwork per diem and the—ahem— _quirky_ staff dimmed her mood every time she walked through the door.

"Yes, I know," she said, rolling her eyes, "but I thought we weren't allowed to make stuff up?"

"We aren't—we _can't_."

"Then what is this? 'Redfox syndicate leader found dead'? This can't be real," Lucy droned, waving the papers in his face. He pushed her hand to the table, giving her a stern look as he took several photos from his red blazer and set them down on her desk. She looked and gasped quietly, covering her mouth to hold back a gag. The photos were very graphic, showing the mutilated and bullet hole-ridden corpse, but the disheveled hair and ghastly face remained, just as recognizable as always. "Oh my…"

"See 'em and weep, Luce," he said, pulling away to walk a slow circuit around her small office. He came to a stop at her open window and gave his signature oh-no-this-guy-is-insane grin, clapping his hands together excitedly. "There's a hole in the old order and now every backwater gang is rushin' to fill it… More action, more stories, more food money!"

"Somehow I knew that was your only motivation," she sighed. "I'll have the story printed by five tomorrow, alright, Natsu?"

"Thanks, Luce!" He swept away muttering what sounded like "cheeseburgers or steak" under his breath. Lucy sighed as she looked over the report again.

"'Metallicana Redfox was found in an alleyway three days ago carved open, his legs, one arm, and several organs taken out. The killer left no trace, and because of the extensive bad company he was aligned with, there are too many possible suspects to narrow down. It has also been reported that the syndicate's favorite hangouts were quickly vacated, leaving many previously-infested stores and bars open for the public once again. His son, Gajeel Redfox, the natural next-in-line for leader, is nowhere to be found.'" Lucy looked out the window at Magnolia, pursing her lips. "If the son of that man is out running on the streets…nobody can be safe."

* * *

"Momma, something's looking at me from the alley—"

"Just walk faster honey, come on."

Gajeel watched the little girl as her mother tugged her a bit too hard, causing her to drop the pastry she was carrying. He reached out from the crate he was sitting on to snatch it up. Thankfully, the paper it was wrapped in kept it clean, and as he ate it he lamented about the copious amount of strawberry and sugar in it. That was how he'd been getting his food the last three days and it became more unpleasant each time. Mostly, he got food in that manner; other times he was very unlucky and had to root through trashcans. Neither state was desirable, however, but he dug himself that hole when he—

He looked down as he felt a weak scratch on his pants and saw a black cat looking at him with gloomy eyes. Gajeel picked him up and gave him the last of the pastry. "You on the street too?" Gajeel asked, scratching behind his ears.

"Meow," he answered dejectedly, leaning into his hand.

"Well, least we're not alone anymore. Not that it makes a damn difference…" He sighed as he looked out at the street again, watching carriages run to and fro along the paved ground. "Gotta find somewhere to sleep tonight." He dragged himself to his feet with the cat in his arms… "Pantherlily, I like that name. How 'bout you?"

"Meow," he said neutrally. He pulled his cloak over his head, and although it did nothing to hide his distinctive red eyes, he could more or less pass for any average street rat. _Average street rat…_ The words burned his tongue like the most potent poison. He, Gajeel Redfox, grabbing food from the grubby street while goody good red-dye Scarlet cozied up in her big house counting herself to sleep with how many bullets she'd pop in his skull given the chance. Then again, if he was starving out on the hot midmorning asphalt, she could crack a pretty good shot on his ass without even trying. Ah, damn it all.

He went past his usual bits—Cardia Cathedral, a local monastery, women and children's home (hey, he put in an effort)—but he wasn't the only bastard out there in the cold nights with nowhere to rest his stuffed and bolted head, and he was turned away as he arrived "a little too late." He couldn't complain though, he only gritted his teeth and turned away, the same as he always did when his old man snapped on him, the same as he would continue to do when things got rough. It was one of the Redfox family mottos, right up there alongside "pillage 'n' steal 'n' don't ever apologize for it." Still, he had a little kitty to take care of, and although he wouldn't ever have admitted it to any of those gang lackeys, he really liked cats, and Lily was the first one to ever like him back.

"Life really sucks for us backwater lives, don't it?" Gajeel sighed to him as they walked along a dirt pathway parallel to a river. Night had already fallen, and all his running around and groveling had him both exhausted and starving. It didn't seem like he would get lucky, however, and his patience had run far too thin for him to stand at some stranger's door and growl out a "pretty please" for a dumb loaf of bread for the third time—that day. He felt as if he'd keel over then and there, but giving in sure as hell wasn't his modus operandi—hell, most would say he was just as hardheaded as that steel plate on his skull. (Unconventional bulletproofing method, but it worked.) Lily trotted alongside him as he tried to walk straight, but he must've stumbled a couple of times from fatigue because a sudden square of golden light shone from an opening window right onto him.

"Hey, sir, are you alright?" He arched his head back and locked his narrowed eyes on the speaker, a young woman dressed for sleep leaning out of an apartment. She had long blonde hair pinned to the back of her head and a soft expression—Gajeel wasn't sure that had seen that kind of concern in a long while. He grunted at her and gave a curt nod of his head. She huffed before shutting her window.

 _She wouldn't'a had been so "nice" if she'd 'a known who she's talkin' to._

He barely had the time to lament before a larger rectangle of golden light opened up to his side. The blonde woman was standing at the base of a two-story, a stern expression on her face. "You don't look alright to me," she persisted.

"Look…Bunny-girl," he muttered lowly, eyes raking over her rabbit-printed nightgown. She blew her cheeks out at the title, hands fisted on her full hips. "I don't need no help, 'specially not from some girlie."

"Meow," Lily nearly groaned with a shake of his head, and he easily slunk over to her side.

"Your cat says otherwise."

"He's a traitor. I'm _fine._ "

"Hey, I know a thing or two about stubborn men and their pride and I know how it'll be the death of you all one day." She stepped aside, baring her doorway to him. "The only other thing for you to do would be stay out in the cold."

"I'm used to it." She snorted in response but didn't close the door. He looked down at Lily, who appeared very content to bask in a warm house with real food, and grunted a complaint.

"Do you really want to go off and leave your cat here?"

"—I'm hopin' ya don't mind mud tracks on yer ground," was all he ground out before shouldering past her, boots squeaking noisily against the waxed wooden floor. She shut the door with a tired sigh, eliciting a perplexed call from upstairs.

"Don't worry about it, Natsu!" she replied.

"Won't your guy get mad if ya bring another guy in here?" Her cheeks burned in response.

"He's not my—"

"And yer pretty trusting too… I might be here jus' ta rob ya."

"Na… Natsu is coverage enough," she muttered as she regained her bearings.

"Ya sure? A flowery name like that? I bet I could smash 'im with one finger."

"Did someone just challenge me?" Natsu's voice came roaring from upstairs. "Bring it on!"

"He's so strange," she sighed, pointing Gajeel down the hall. "The guest bathroom is that way. I can also give you some of Natsu's clothes."

"His clothes are here and ya say he's not yer husband?"

"L-Look I'm trying to be genial here and you're prying into my personal life!" she exclaimed. "Just go!"

"Whatever you say, Bunny-girl," he snickered, shouldering past her and to the door she pointed at. Her bathroom was thankfully plain, because he was sure he'd get himself ejected if he found any pink wallpaper or such inside, but there was a simple wooden bath and toilet with a sink stand. He unbuttoned his shirt but had to stop midway as he chuckled to himself, imagining the situation he was in. With his old man around, they always lived in style, the best house in the hills with a plethora of servants all bought by their embezzlement money. Now he was living by the charity of a bunny-loving blonde and her husband-not-husband upstairs.

"Gotta be happy I always moved in the shadows," he muttered, letting his shirt hit the ground and moving onto his pants, "otherwise even the friendliest bastards would throw me on my behind."

He usually didn't take long baths, but there was a few days' worth of grunge mortared on him that he had to scrape off. As he tried not to let the stinging herbal scent of the bar soap stick in his hyper-sensitive nose, he plotted his next move. The rest of the old Redfox crew split town, maybe even the country, so there was a pretty decent chance of him not getting help from those morons. That left…nobody.

He had nobody to turn to.

Gajeel slammed a fist against the side of the tub, throwing his torso over the edge with a heavy groan. He could make a couple in street fights, but with how tight the rich bastards in the town were, he wouldn't make enough to live off three square meals. He could become a thief… No way. He didn't steal—he never stole. As far as sexy Scarlet was concerned, he was a malefactor, but he _did_ have his ethics, vague as they were. So he had to…get a job. Okay, he could make that work.

He let the water drain away and stepped out, feeling the remainder run down the scarred planes of his body. He dried himself off and left the towel on his still-soaked hair as he glanced out the door, finding a bundle of clothes set just next to it. He dressed himself in the grey button-down, pink vest, and brown pants, and internally cursed at whatever bastard really dressed like that. When he left, he spotted the Bunny-girl sitting in the main room writing something. Another man with pink hair so disheveled it hadn't seen a comb for even longer than Gajeel's was perched at her shoulder, trying to read while she easily kept it from his view.

"Just one peek, Lucy," he insisted, grabbing her thin wrist and tugging it in his direction. She held her ground even as muscles bulged within his loose shirt from the effort.

"No, Natsu."

"Just a _little_ peek—"

"C'mon Bunny-girl, don't tell me yer not together."

"Ugh," she complained, getting up and shifting her blush from view. Natsu eyed Gajeel from head to toe and Gajeel emulated the action.

"You look strong—let's fight," he said with no buildup, no prevarication whatsoever.

"I'll beat yer ass in a second."

"Who are you anyway? I never saw your mug at the bar before."

"Some spittle on Magnolia's good name. What are you, a walkin' bubblegum advertisement?" Evidently the wrong thing to say, as Natsu's fists tightened and his back unbent to push his admittedly-strong chest out. Gajeel felt a faint scratch on his leg before Lily clambered onto his shoulder, hissing angrily. Natsu's entire disposition changed in the span of a groan.

"That's not fair, you have your cat. That's two-on-one." Lucy didn't speak a word to either of them, instead shuffling past Gajeel and down the hall.

"Two-on-on… He's a cat, genius."

"So?" he spat, crossing his arms. Gajeel rolled his eyes and dropped to the couch, throwing his arms over the back and making himself comfortable. Lucy returned a moment later and set a plate of steak and mashed potatoes in front of him.

"So, I can't afford to feed two men—not when Natsu eats as much as twelve men—so I'm hoping you have somewhere else to stay?" Gajeel grunted as he took a bite, staunchly eyeing the patterns of her door. Lily returned from his self-guided tour to crawl onto the table and nibble on the edge of the steak. "—What about work?" she tried again. "You can work."

"I _can_ —don't know who'll hire me though."

"Farmers maybe? You could be a scarecrow with that mug," Natsu said. Gajeel wished he had some metal to hawk in the bastard's eye.

"Maybe you could work at the office?" she suggested.

"What office?"

"Hell no," Natsu protested as Lucy continued, "The print office, where we produce the local paper."

"Yea… I don't see myself doin' that crap. The paper's full of yellow rats… No offense, Bunny-girl."

"How could that _not_ be offensive?" she muttered before glancing at a wall clock. She drew a yarn blanket from the back of the couch and handed it to him. "And anyway, it's late. You can sleep on the couch tonight and see if you can find work tomorrow—if not, there's still a position at the office. Alright?" He simply grunted, which Lucy took to be his affirmation. "And you, go home," she snapped at Natsu.

"Aww, but it's no fun with just Happy around," he complained, following her up the stairs. "Lu-cy—"

"I said HOME!" A second later he came tumbling down each step and landed ass-over-ears sprawled on the carpet. "Haven't you ever heard of the fine line between employees and bosses!?"

"Argh," he complained, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. He grumbled quietly as he slunk towards the door, yet he paused with one hand on the knob to glance over his shoulder at Gajeel. "You should try the downtown district—a lotta rich guys down there that could use a hand and don't care where it's coming from. The pay sucks ass, I'll tell you firsthand, but it's better than prowling for your next meal that was probably three other people's meal."

"Whaddaya know about that?" he queried, half out of disgruntlement and half out of simple curio. Natsu was rugged in his own right, but he was also getting knocked around in a pressed shirt and sparkling chinos, so he had to be pretty decent.

"I spent some time out there after my old man, Igneel, passed," he answered with just a tinge of despondency that quickly melted on his tongue, replaced by a quirky grin. "But I started doing pretty well for myself if I may say so, so there's gotta be hope for even a deadbeat like you."

"Thanks," he rumbled with no huge conviviality or even rectitude. Natsu took it the same as he left, nonetheless. No longer as hungry as before Gajeel laid back on Bunny-girl's floral couch with the blanket drawn to his chest, letting Pantherlily have his dinner as he stared at the swinging ceiling fan. Tomorrow, for the first time in his crime-filled life, he was going to work a real job for real, unbloodied money.


	2. Fairy Tales and Castigations

**_"_** ** _EXTRA EXTRA—REDFOX DADDY DEAD."_**

Gajeel's upper lip curled in disgust as he crumpled the headliner and tossed it at the newsboy's head. The pink-haired moron tossed the irate boy a gold coin for his trouble as he rushed to keep pace with the taller of the two. "Slow down a little, would ya?" he complained.

"Oi, I ain't tell you to come along like a damn dog," Gajeel retorted.

"Yeah, but Luce made me," he grumbled, "so I'm gonna."

"So you're _her_ dog."

"Only when she offers me dinner and does that nice scratching thing behind my ear. Anyways, what kind of job can a degenerate like you get?"

"Tossin' crates at the docks?"

"Surprise surprise, they don't take everyone that shows up." He said it from personal experience too, so Gajeel chose not to press. "You good at cooking?"

"Cooking trouble? Five stars. Cooking food? Ha." He noticed a pair of eyes lingering on him and tugged the clasp of his cloak a little tighter, shielding everything but his eyes from view. Natsu sighed, rubbing his neck as if dealing with a task fit for Hercules—a little offensive, but not incorrect. "Don't ya have a job ta be at?"

"I'm manager, so I decreed myself some needed time off," he said offhandedly. "I needed it anyway, working so hard." Gajeel took one look at him and found him a lot more of a loafer than he let on. "I feel you thinking bad about me."

"You're feelin' right then."

"Oi, I'm trying to help your backwash of society ass, so show some gratitude," Natsu said.

"I ain't ask for yer help in the first place, pinkie."

"You wanna go, bolts for brains?" he growled, yanking his collar loose. Gajeel loosened it for him by melding it with his fist, bringing the shorter man up to his face.

"Since I first laid eyes on ya." They had crossed into the docks area, the smell of fish and industry raging around them as large ships pulled in and out carting tonnes of steel cargo to around the world. If he really wanted, Gajeel could've cracked his thick skull on one of the anchoring stumps, but he preferred a more hands-on approach with his ass-kickings. Then again, something about his eyes, full of blazing fire, denoted an above-average opponent. Oh, he was going to have some _fun._

"Stop right there!"

"Oh shit!" he hissed in alarm, dropping Natsu and shoving him away in the same movement. He glanced left and right before zeroing in on a head of red hair directed at them. "Damn Scarlet!"

"The police?" he asked, swiveling around in alarm. "I can't go back to jail!" he said, alarmed. "The food sucks ass!" They split, Gajeel heading west and Natsu heading east. He heard her steel-toed boots clattering behind him and picked up the pace, shouldering idling townspeople from his path as he went. His hood began to slip as he reached the industrial district, thick smoke wafting past his sensitive nose and nearly causing him to stumble and gag as the sidewalk turned chunkier and less done, catching his loafers far more often.

"Stop right there!" Erza shouted behind him. He bit down several responses he had before hooking his hand round a steel lamppost, swinging into an alleyway between two pipe skeletons. He could tell she didn't recognize him yet, as she would've called the whole force out, but her presence made him wonder: had his old allies been arrested yet? He was sure that if they had, the news would have made headliner status easily, but Erza's prize was and would always be him, the son of Magnolia's ex-crime lord. Catching him would've been like Christmas, New Years, and fifteen birthdays wrapped up into a convenient package of steel cuffs and a quick read of rights he had relinquished long ago—her words, not his.

He swerved behind an old bar building and spotted the doors to the wine cellar. He yanked them open and dove in, however he didn't have the time to shut them and Erza easily traced his tracks. He scrambled down the steps, his shoes echoing off of the stone into the semi-darkness before he landed at the base with a heavy _whump!_ He checked to make sure his cloak was still cinched before he ducked through the towers of steel toting several dozen brands of aged wine among other things. Had he possessed a bit more time, he would've stopped for a drink.

Gajeel crept through the aisles, past the flickering sconces' reach and into a section where even his (borrowed) flamboyant clothing could blend. Erza's steps slowed to a walk, exposing her slightly-harried breaths as she stalked in search of him. Though she wasn't in the direct path of the light, her scarlet locks worked against her, shining like bloody streamers in the yellow glare. He waited until she was just a few steps away before sweeping his arm into several bottles of brew, toppling them over the ground with several loud successive crashes. Chief Scarlet leapt back, startled, before noticing the amber liquid forming a trail towards her boots.

"Assault, and now destruction of property," she said, and although he couldn't see her he could _hear_ the malicious smile in her voice. "Two charges now. You're just making my job easier."

He stood with his back to a corner wall, listening to her footsteps and the soft click of her gun—she wasn't joking around anymore. He wasted no time in swinging to the side just as a bullet preceded her appearance, shattering another bottle with a loud explosion of scarlet like blood that stained the white of her dress shirt and spilled onto her pale skin like the remains of her prey. She absently licked a drop from her thumb with a careless shot in the next direction, so close that Gajeel felt it graze the tip of his ear and shear away a couple of hairs.

"And you've even gotten me my celebratory drink," she smirked. He pinched his ear to staunch the flow of blood as he slunk further from her view, but she had doubled her pace until her steps were like the spiteful dash of the Reaper himself within the darkness. It would've been stupid that, after evading her as long as he had, she finally caught him by the tail of his scruff in a wine cellar—

Hm. Actually, the wine cellar could cause _just_ enough commotion to cover his tracks, if he played his cards well. They were oft catacombs in themselves, old labyrinthine caverns and escapes repurposed for the owner's benefit. He knew that when in doubt, he could more likely than not sniff his way out, but Chief Scarlet surely did not have the same ability. So, he just had to fool her near bloodhound tracking abilities.

He swung an arm out and caught the edge of a shelf. A second later, it toppled between them, the topmost bottles shattering against the wall and bursting into red and violet as the lower ones spilled over the cracks and crevices of the cobwebbed corners. She was undeterred, however, which he expected: it would've been awfully depressing if she flinched from some cracking bottles. He turned a sharp left when faced with a fork, and although Erza persisted, she was slowed by the trails of liquor wetting the stone. Those mere three or four paces kept his bearings steady as he reached out and grabbed the edges of shelves on either sides, tugging them out and forward. They collided together, and where they united bottles tipped while the lowest fell and rolled across the ground. In the lightless tunnel, Erza slipped and crashed into them, throwing the shelves and bottles into a huge wet clatter. He could hear her cursing from all the way down as he turned right, right, and left to where the sconces' light was barely a dream.

"Gihi. Always one step behind," he chuckled, slowing to a leisurely stroll. He detected a bit of wetness on his forehead where a lock of hair stuck to his skin and wiped it with the back of his hand. The scarlet shade was of aged wine, but the coppery taste revealed it as blood. He must've been injured without paying attention, plus the drenching of his pants up to the knees and the distractingly soggy sensation of his socks that made him feel like he was wading through a swamp. He could find himself a new pair easily, but not from Bunny-girl and especially not if they were coming from that pink waste of space, What's-his-name.

 _BOOM!_

Gajeel stumbled, shocked, before the actual pain hit: a stinging, burning sensation within his left shoulder. He clasped the aching joint and through the ache was a familiar seeping warmth that slithered past his fingers and stained the collar of his other arm. He gritted his teeth and raised his eyes to where a red-faced aproned man was standing in the light of a nearby sconce, the faded yellow glow serving just enough to lighten his dark eyes and smoking muzzle. He cocked the double-barreled shotgun once more, threatening this time, though Gajeel couldn't for the life of him understand why he would shoot _then_ threaten.

"So it was _you_ destroying my supplies," the bar owner growled.

"Chht," he grumbled, more irate than frightened, but the pain was serving as an excellent leash to his usually-burning fury. He was in no condition to fight, a fact which both of them could see especially well as his blood bloomed as a large flower against the already-gaudy landscape of What's-his-face's shirt.

"Well?" the guy pressed, and although the gun was incentive enough to speak, Gajeel kept his mouth clamped shut. Expectedly, the bar owner prepared another shot when— _crack!_ Gajeel had his teeth fixed around the slightly-rusted barrel, and in a movement so quick the larger man's eyes couldn't quite follow. The ensuing buckshot cracked against the ceiling as Gajeel contorted the steel out of shape with his molars, causing the man to drop it. He then grabbed it and used it lengthwise to pin him by the throat against the crude stone. He gasped, spittle building at the corners of his mouth as he fought for breath, eyes crossing a little as Gajeel's cloak slipped. _Damn it._

"Ya won't tell a damn body what ya see," he hissed, pressing just hard enough to turn the man blue, "'else I'm gonna come back, and ya'll hate it when I come back."

"A—ack—agh—," he spluttered, but with Erza's footsteps rapidly approaching, Gajeel had to take it in the affirmative. He pulled his hood over his head and tossed the remaining bullets before slamming the butt of the gun against the man's head. He crumpled instantly and Gajeel took off, leaving the weapon behind. He reached the stairwell that the bar owner took and ascended to the kitchen, making sure to grab a plate of Lebanese bread and pint of ale on his way past the stunned patrons.

It helped to have real, hot food in his stomach, plus a drink to muffle the pain, but he needed to go to a clinic. Then again, he couldn't risk a clinic without being able to fight for himself, which in itself became a twisted paradox. He sat on the ledge parallel to the canal to eat, dedicating the remaining part of his consciousness to the swelling ache in his shoulder. It felt like some muscles had been torn from the slug, but mainly he only needed stitches. In the meantime, that ale was some damn good ibuprofen.

When he finished eating he tore away a sleeve and tied it under his arm to serve as a temporary rag. Maybe Bunny-girl could fix it up, or her man—he looked like he'd had his fair share of patching up. He took another gulp of ale, feeling it buzz against his throat the whole way down, and looked towards the end of the street. Of all the shops there—decent ones too, like bakeries and non-dinky fortune tellers'—there remained just one bearing a **'HELP WANTED'** sign: some place called "Mac Garden of Books." Now, Gajeel wasn't a reader—far from it, if he had to put things nicely—but he was at the virtual end of his rope, and in that state, nobody could afford to be picky. Besides, he had a better chance to live if he was off of the streets before Erza found him with anger as her charging fuel.

A cluster of bells jingled as he pushed open the door, the sound permeating his brain minutes after it ceased. The interior was like a fancy home catalogue, all _complementary colors_ and crap like that. There were plush armchairs and polished tables and bookshelves that twisted and turned like an entirely different sort of maze. To be frank, the place gave him a headache in ten seconds flat.

He approached the counter and the fancy-dressed lady sitting there smiled at him before noticing his bedraggled appearance and catching the lingering stench of alcohol on him and let the strain show on the edges of her mouth. "Can I help you…," she asked after a moment, fishing among a metaphorical pool of things to call him before settling on a polite, "—sir?"

"I saw the sign… Ya guys need an extra hand 'round?" he asked gruffly. The woman continued smiling even as her eyes told a different story.

"Well… Why, yes. I suppose you're interested." _Could ya sound a little more enthused?_

"Ya."

"Well, for someone like…you, you could handle new book shipments. They come in bulk and are pretty heavy, but you seem pretty strong."

"Yea, _pretty strong._ "

"You could move shelves too," she added as a side note, looking towards the customers idling about the lounge chairs. It looked to him that she was coming up with the basest, easiest grunt work possible, which not only undermined his pride but his intelligence as well.

"Ya know, I remember a li'l bit of the alphabet too." The lady had the audacity to act as if that was news, or at least the gall not to hide her surprise. "Sortin' books, can't I do that?"

"The ISBN system is pretty complicated." _Can't be more complicated than gang physics._

"Jus' give me the damn job lady." His shoulder was starting to beat like a second heart despite the booze. He gripped the wound and rolled his fingers over the hole, feeling it ooze some more into his shirt. At that point, he didn't have much blood to spare, and he just wanted to take a nap and be done with it all. The woman wrestled with something for a moment—probably her intelligence, or at least the last three points of it—before sighing and drawing a clipboard from the desk.

"Fill this out please."

"Well shit, I still have some time ya can waste, ya know," he said, snatching the board from her hand. She made an expression as if it was becoming physically painful to bear with his presence. Honestly he was glad to be away from her before he pounded her face in. He went to sit down and practically collapsed on the chaise, legitimately stunned at how exhausted he really was. Outwitting the Chief was, at that point, very much child's play, but he was running a long time with bullets still embedded in his flesh and a mild stream of blood still drenching his shirt. It had been a long time since he had one of his old man's guys to patch him up on demand. He could swear that he remembered how to clean himself up, albeit not too reliably, but even so, he didn't have a first-aid kit, the first among many problems.

It only took him a minute or so to fill out the form, but the prissy lady was gone from her desk and nowhere in sight. He sighed and turned to bookshelf nearest to him, absently running his hand over the volumes. He picked up some soft complaints coming from a few aisles over and slunk past the eggheads to find the source. A young girl with dark blue hair was standing aside as another blue-haired girl, presumably a worker, went for a book on a higher shelf—the problem, however, was that the other girl was about the same height, and had as much luck reaching the high shelf as Gajeel with becoming a priest.

"Don't worry—ugh—Wendy, I'll get—oof—it down," she said to the younger girl, attempting to jump to reach it. As Gajeel was in a pretty dire situation himself, the hilarity of that was not lost on him. He kept himself a good laugh for two minutes before finally deciding to put them out of their misery.

"You should try a ladder, Shrimp," he leered, easily snatching the book and handing it to the younger girl. She nodded her thanks before rushing off, leaving Gajeel with the red-cheeked shorty.

"I could reach it!" she protested, hands fisted at her sides.

"Sure, and I'm the King of Fiore."

"You—," she started, then sputtered off like an old car engine being turned too fast. He was actually pretty content to let her fish for words—it sure beat running Scarlet in circles. She was a small girl, yeah, but he had a feeling she was older than she looked—maybe twenty? maybe a little older? She wore a men's shirt and trousers, probably for the job, but her hair had the soft curly quality that only a woman's could. If not for that, her inherently stubborn expression was surely female.

"Me?"

"Ugh!" she finally cried, blowing her pink cheeks out and hurrying away from him. He had a good laugh at her expense, a good laugh that turned greater when he picked up the sound of her dissented muttering across the store—it was easy too, considering how quiet it was. (Why were bookstores so quiet? They weren't libraries.) He returned to the desk and found the lady back, still with the perturbed expression on her face, and slammed the clipboard down on the desk. She took her time putting on her reading glasses before idly perusing the form, taking in every detail with strained stillness until—

"The name."

"What about it?"

"It's not funny." Oh, right, here comes the kicker.

"Isn't it?" he challenged, resting his elbows on the desk. She looked at him, a _Please take five steps away from me_ on her tongue, when all words died in her gaping mouth. He didn't quite shove his hood down for a dramatic reveal—he was desperate, not insane—but he notched it back _just_ enough to let his piercings glint in the "ambient lighting" and to reveal the signature Redfox eyes: "the shine of blood in Hell," they'd been deemed more than once, and he kind of liked the idea.

"Y-y-you—," she spluttered, pointed nails scrabbling at the desk in her shock. He leaned in close enough that the scent of her egg sandwich lunch was all he could taste and gave her his best grin, which was also notoriously his worst.

"Jus' between you an' me, alright? I don't like bein' treated the way yer doin' it, but I don't think that it'll be happenin' again."

"Y-You have to be a f-fool to think we'd let you work here," she said after a moment, regaining her bearings and attempting to replace her nose in the air. It would've been convincing had her chin not been quivering as grass in the wind.

"Maybe," he admitted, "but you'd have to be a fool to refuse me. Bad things happen to people that do—ya wanna find out firsthand?" She fell silent, staring at him with a weird mesmerized… Like a snake. Like she was a snake and he was a charmer. He liked that analogy.

"I…no, I… I'll call the police," she decided, but as fast as she had her hand on the phone, Gajeel had his teeth around the cord.

"Go 'head," he slurred, crushing the metal connecter with a smirk. "Listen hard, lady: I'm down, I need a job, I need somewhere to stay, I need _money,_ and I need it all _now._ Ya can do me the favor and give it to me and leave with yerself intact, or…" He didn't finish, instead removing the rotary cover from the phone and slipping it between his teeth, letting the satisfying _crack!_ be his climax.

"—Mph," she finally groused, taking his papers and daintily dabbing at the nervous sweat smearing her makeup. She kept one eye on him as she announced over the system that it was now closing time, and while Gajeel had no clue of the business' hours, he doubted that any store was closing at three o'clock on a weekend. Disappointed clienteles shuffled through the door, the repeated _ting-a-ling-ting_ ing of the bell getting stuck in his head like a bad song before, eventually, the building was emptied. The blue-haired girl from earlier made a slow round drawing the shades on the display windows until eventually the store was closed off from the rest of the world.

"Final-freaking-ly," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He noticed that the wound had dulled to a mere tugging pain, which put him in a worse position than before, as he was feeling more than a little lightheaded from all the blood loss plus the alcohol.

"Levi-chan," the woman started, but Gajeel cut her off with a look. Levi turned, slightly surprised, as he sunk into a chair with a grateful sigh.

"Levi. Lemme guess— _of the Mac Garden's._ " She gave him an even more peculiar look but didn't respond, at which he snorted through his nose. "Okay. Figures. Look Shrimp—,"

"I'm not!" she protested, again red in the face, which he dutifully ignored.

"—I'm here with a deal. I win, you win, everyone wins. This is it." He loosened the clasp of his cloak and let the hood fall back. Levi's red face lost all blood, turning as white as the pages of a new book as her little hands fisted at her sides. "I'm guessin' ya know me. Good. Makes this easier. I guess ya heard that I'm not in good standin' right now… So I need somewhere to crash. I work here, help out yer little store, and in exchange I get food and board. That sound good enough for ya?"

"You—why would I help you? You're a criminal—you're _the_ criminal! You should be locked up!" Ah, there it was.

"That's the funny thing: I _should_ be, but as ya can see, I'm not. And as a free man, I can do whatever I want… Burn down this buildin', even," he said casually, causing her to flinch and coil even further, a venom-less snake ready to strike. "I'm tryin' to be amicable here. My old man was a businessman if nothin' else, ya know, so I know how trade works. 'sides, it looks like ya could use muscle 'round here. Yer not exactly in shape to protect this store should somethin' happen."

"Nothing bad has _ever_ happened," she maintained. _Until you showed,_ was her unspoken continuation.

"Maybe, but ya can't see the future, can ya? And even so, it's gotta be hard luggin' crap around day in an' day out by yerself, shorty." She again flushed, this time with indignation rather than chagrin, and he sneered at her.

"Food and board… That can't be all you want," she said dubiously, working the words through her teeth.

"I'm not demandin', and not evil either, which most of Magnolia does not, in fact, agree with," he pointed out. "These are actually fairly easy demands to put up with."

"I'll call the—"

"Police? Good luck with that, no phone and all. 'sides, are you really bettin' my capture on Erza's so far crappy chase skills?" Levi pursed her lips. "So there's yer choice: ya can go 'head and risk calling Erza, risk _all of this,_ or ya could jus' give me the job like I asked and everyone's happy."

"You—," Levi started, face darkening, before she released all tension with a sigh. When she spoke again it was with a straightened back and careful expression: "Fine. Starting tomorrow, you work here during the day, and during the night you can stay in our house." He took the _our_ to mean her family's home. He tried to picture what kind of home she lived in, but he wasn't a very creative person.

"That wasn't that hard, was it, Shrimp?" he leered, like a shark. She didn't respond, instead focusing on collecting books that the customers failed to return to the shelves. After a couple of seconds, he realized that, as a worker, he should be helping, so he went to push the skewed and scattered chairs back in order.

"I hate you," she said into the heavy silence. "What your family did to Magnolia… You hurt a lot of people, you've taken a lot of lives."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Don't you _care?_ "

"The only thing I care about is survivin', and that's all _you_ should worry 'bout too. Silence again, but he was somewhat grateful for it. Well, in any case, it beat sitting in a jail cell with Erza prancing around like the cat that got the canary. Then again, he now had himself locked up in a totally different sort of cage.


End file.
